


Patrick Watching

by reginahalliwell



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anal Fingering, Baseball, Blow Jobs, Canon Queer Relationship, Drunk Sex, Established Relationship, Introspection, Jukebox Prompt, M/M, People Watching, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:54:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24669475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reginahalliwell/pseuds/reginahalliwell
Summary: Prompt fill for samwhambam: The first time David sees Patrick drunkDavid loves People Watching. His favorite kind is Patrick Watching. And Drunk Patrick Watching is in a category all its own.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 9
Kudos: 176
Collections: The Rosebudd Ficlets





	Patrick Watching

**Author's Note:**

  * For [samwhambam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/samwhambam/gifts).



Patrick didn’t always go out with the baseball team after a game, but when they won like they just did, he did tend to want to celebrate. And Patrick had caught so many fly balls in their game tonight, gotten a few key outs, and they were sure to want to celebrate after a victory like that. David didn’t know what the special-best-player acronym was, but he was pretty sure Patrick would have won it today.

So when they headed to the Wobbly Elm, David assured him that he should celebrate kicking Ronnie’s team’s butts and drink as much as he wanted. David would drive home. There was something about their victory and it being Patrick’s Friday (though it was, of course, a Saturday) and the way David’s voice made him certain that his boyfriend would take care of him that allowed Patrick to let loose a little bit. They drank together occasionally, less so on Patrick’s end because he was usually driving. And they had partaken with Stevie as well. But in Schitt’s Creek, they could walk everyone. No one was going to be walking home from the Wobbly Elm.

In his Café Tropical henley, scuffed with dirt and damp with sweat at his underarms and the small of his back, Patrick ordered beer after beer. He and Ronnie were egging each other on, and Roland was chugging so hard David could practically see his beer belly expanding, and Gwen and Bob were helping no one. At least it wasn’t some crap like Coors Light. David had never particularly been a fan, but it was at least more acceptable in one’s youth. Now, with a steady job and a reputation to uphold, Patrick would not be drinking that piss anymore.

He went back again to the bartender, who passed him another bottle of some craft beer from a brewery in the area. That stuff had to be better than PBR or Budweiser or the like.

After his second glass of wine – a white, tonight, because he was too warm from watching the game outside – David had slowed down and sipped at his soda water instead, choosing to take the opportunity to watch Patrick’s demeanor as he slipped further and further into drunkenness.

Some guy he didn’t know that played for the whichever Elmdale team they had beaten today clapped his boyfriend on the back, running a hand over his shoulder casually. The man was a little younger than he was, maybe Patrick’s age, with those kind of dopey surfer curls that had long gone out of style. But they were kind of sweaty curls now, because he had played hard, and he did look pretty hot. David panicked briefly, wondering if this was it, if this was the moment when baby gay Patrick Brewer would find someone who liked the same things he did to be with. But Patrick shrugged his shoulders in laughter, subtly moving the guy’s hand off him, and David breathed a sigh of relief.

Clearly Patrick was still sober enough to refuse another guy’s attentions. Or maybe the rules were different in baseball. Maybe it was like football, where you could smack a guy’s ass without saying “no homo,” and it would just be normal. He kind of doubted it. Baseball was hardly as tactile a sport, and even with hockey, it seemed like the players were more working out their frustration (sexual or otherwise) on each other with aggressive checking and body slamming. Gentle physical contact outside of play was probably still a big no-no.

Seeing Patrick like this was nice, but also a little sad for David. He felt a little farther away from Patrick at times like this, when he couldn’t really be there for him in the same way his teammates could.

But then Patrick twinkling eyes caught his and that shit-eating grin busted out just for David, and Patrick left the group he was in the middle of to come over to see him.

“Having fun?” David asked, really wanting Patrick to enjoy this. He had met David only a few weeks into living in Schitt’s Creek, and besides David and their mutual friends—okay, friend, Stevie—Patrick didn’t really get to know many people. He had met a couple of people hiking, and really enjoyed getting to know their vendors from the store, but it was different to have an actual group of people to go out and have fun with.

When David had had that, it was all people that he wouldn’t have trusted for a second to help him out if he got in a bind. He had, a few times, found that out the hard way. A trip to the ER because of some molly had shown him just how little he could really enjoy himself in their company. And of course, when they had lost everything, none of those people cared beyond needing to find someone else to bankroll them.

So David knew it was important for Patrick to have friends, and he was really happy to see Patrick enjoying himself like this. But he was even happier to see Patrick _want_ to spend time with him instead.

“Yeah,” Patrick said, “It’s great. You should come meet the Elmdale team.” He was being overly tactile, a little more affectionate than normal, and certainly more aware of the height difference between them. David wasn’t sure if Patrick was just loopy or if he was so off balance that he felt the need to look directly _up_ to speak to David, but either way, the man was drunk. Drunker than David had seen him so far in their relationship. It was always David getting drunk and Patrick taking care of him, and he supposed that wasn’t really fair, and it could be Patrick’s turn now.

People-watching was always fun. Patrick-watching was best of all. Drunk-Patrick-watching was a special treat.

“That’s okay,” David declined, preferring to stay and watch from a distance. He didn’t really feel like connecting with people right now. “Although you might want to look out for that one,” David tipped his head in Surfer Curls’ direction. “I think he has a bit of a thing for you.”

Patrick blushed instantly, and David knew he the feeling. He was flustered, and flattered, and maybe a little embarrassed.

“Don’t worry,” Patrick slurred, pulling David down to his height to stage-whisper in his ear. “I wanna go home with you tonight.”

David laughed, not unkindly. “Well, that’s good, because I’m your ride.”

Patrick let out a sound that seemed suspiciously like a chuckle combined with a hiccup, and held David close to whisper again. “I have a bit of a thing for _you_ ,” he said, looking down at his grass- and dirt-stained white pants to what was clearly a semi. David bit his lip to keep from laughing.

“Well, I’m very flattered,” David said. “I have a bit of a thing for you too.”

When Patrick looked down to see no erection in David’s pants, his brow furrowed for long moments before he realized that David meant it in the other sense.

“Did you—are you ready—do you want to go?” Patrick asked, fumbling for words his brain couldn’t quite find.

David smiled, kissed him right on the side of his mouth, tasting the tang of the beer at the corner of his lips. “No, you go have fun.” He took another look at Patrick’s eyes, wandering around the room in a daze. “On second thought, not too much fun. I have plans for you later.”

Patrick’s eyes widened at that, leaning in to offer him a sloppy kiss before pulling back with a shit-eating grin. “Okay, David. Have fun over here all by your lonesome,” he said, probably intending to be seductive or teasing, but it just made David laugh.

Wow, how many beers had Patrick drank? Or maybe when he went to the bathroom he had missed his boyfriend doing shots. That was more likely, with Roland in the building. There was no way he was this drunk off just a few beers. I mean, he had less body mass than David, but he couldn’t be that much of a lightweight.

Patrick watching only got more fun as the night progressed, and he seemed to be keeping up a good high, never over the edge, never sobering up enough to not be having fun. And all the while, David watched him, texting Stevie with particularly fun insights about their favorite businessman.

God, he wanted Patrick so bad all the time, but especially now, with his mannerisms a little looser, his smile a little wider, his eyes gleaming with excitement. David wanted nothing more than to take him home and have the night of his life with Patrick.

But the longer the night went on, the less likely that was to happen. And not just because David had some serious qualms about doing anything with Patrick when he was at a disadvantage like this, but also because he was pretty sure Patrick wasn’t going to be able to get it up when they returned home. He might fall asleep for all David knew—this was the first time he had seen Patrick let loose like this, and he really didn’t know what to expect.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Patrick stumbled back over to where David was sitting, texting Stevie or Alexis most likely, and muttered something about wanting to go home. “Okay, honey,” David whispered in response, not really sure exactly what he said but sure enough about what it meant. He had closed out their tab when Patrick ordered his last beer anyway, anticipating this portion of their night would be ending soon, and it seemed he had predicted correctly. Putting an arm around Patrick, he supported the shorter man as they walked slowly to his car, which thankfully hadn’t been acting up too much lately.

Patrick plopped himself into the passenger’s seat ungracefully, failing miserably at buckling his seatbelt until David reached in to help him. David leaned in to press a soft kiss to Patrick’s forehead, smiling at his closed eyes. He had a feeling Patrick would be fast asleep before they made it back to his apartment. Oh, well. A sleeping Patrick was an adorable Patrick.

Sure enough, before David had exited the Wobbly Elm parking lot, Patrick was out like a light. It was a quiet drive back home, and David was just thankful they had reached this point in their relationship where they could be safe with each other, where they could be inebriated or asleep or whatever and fully trust that the other one would get them home and take care of them.

And David did. He woke Patrick gently, helped him to the elevator, unlocked the door, and led him first to the bathroom, then the kitchen where he helped Patrick down a large glass of water, then the bed. Patrick toed off his cleats, slinking unsexily out of his dirty clothes, and all but collapsing onto his side of their bed. David picked the dirty clothes up off the floor, threw them in the hamper, then came back to adjust Patrick so he could be in a somewhat normal sleeping position, covers and all.

After refilling the glass of water and setting that and some ibuprofen down on Patrick’s nightstand, David went into the bathroom to do his evening routine. As he went through the nine steps of his skincare regimen, unhurried but eager for bed, he thought about the different stages of Patrick’s drunkenness he had witnessed tonight. He thought about what he must have looked like when he used to be a candy raver, what David rolling on E or crashing from coke would have appeared as to an observer. He didn’t want to ever show that side of him to Patrick, but being drunk or stoned had never felt quite the same as doing the harder stuff.

His musings and skincare left behind, David moved back into the one room that made up the entire apartment, turning off the lights as he went.

He pulled back the covers, his pajamas much cleaner and warmer than the sweaty boxers Patrick was sleeping in. Leaning over, he kissed Patrick on the cheek, hearing his even breaths still. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” David whispered, hoping Patrick could fall back asleep.

“I was just taking a nap while you took off your face,” Patrick muttered sleepily, not convincing at all.

“Oh, is that all?” David asked, sure he must have gone through at least one REM cycle by this point. But then, he didn’t know what drunk Patrick was really like, so he probably shouldn’t assume.

And then Patrick was up, wiping his bleary eyes, his breathing deepening as his body required more oxygen. “Come here,” he said, pulling David into his arms. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“You always take care of me,” David reminded him. He had seen David drunk or stoned (or a few times, both at once) on more than one occasion, and Patrick always took good care of him. Not always without his trademark sass, and he particularly enjoyed trolling stoned David, whose confused face looked remarkably like a sad puppy. But David hadn’t seen the reverse ever. Until tonight. And watching drunk Patrick interact with the bartender, and Ronnie, and Roland, and oh, God, Bob—well, that was really something. Not to mention how Patrick interacted with _him._

“We have some unfinished business, you and me,” Patrick said, furrowing his brow seriously. David raised his in response.

“Do we?” he asked, a little teasing, a little curious.

“Well, I had a little _thing_ for you earlier, I told you.”

“Not so little, if I remember correctly.”

“Well, not so little except I was trying to keep things presentable in front of you know, people.”

“Ah, people,” David said. “There were lots of people tonight. Some new people too,” he said pointedly.

“I told you I was gonna come home with you,” Patrick confirmed, poking a finger into David’s chest over his shirt.

“So you did,” David agreed easily. “I’m glad you got a little attention from someone else, though,” he admitted.

“Oh, no,” Patrick bemoaned. “Is this Ken all over again?”

“Well, no, because that guy that was flirting with you was wearing cleats, not those boxy pointy shoes that Ken had on.”

“David,” Patrick whined, clearly still somewhat drunk, although he was certainly sobering up a bit if he was actively worried about this.

“No, it’s not like that. I just think it’s good for you to see that there’s other people out there in the world that can see you for who you are.” David smiled a little, chancing some vulnerability while Patrick was like this. “Only a tiny part of me was worried that you would want to leave me for a hot baseball player.”

Patrick’s eyes widened in concern at David’s admission, but instead of playing into it, he teased, “Oh, so you thought he was hot?”

“In that early 2000s, surfer dude kind of way. Who still wears their hair like that?” David asked in annoyance, although the guy really did pull it off, unfortunately. “Didn’t you?” he asked, realizing Patrick hadn’t agreed with him.

His boyfriend shrugged. “Why eat a cake pop when you have a whole cake waiting for you at home?”

“Okay, first of all, I would never turn down a cake pop. And second, am I the cake in this metaphor? Because I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“Really? It makes perfect sense to me,” Patrick teases, visibly sobering up moment by moment.

“How so?” David looks like he’s afraid to ask.

“Well, I’m pretty sure I’m about to devour you, so…” Patrick’s grin widens as David understands.

“Oh my GOD,” David laughs out. “You are ridiculous. And drunk. We’re not doing this.”

“I’m a little drunk, yes. Not too drunk to know I want you in my mouth,” Patrick confirms. “We are so doing this.”

David throws his head back onto the pillow, considering. He _had_ hoped for something tonight but with Patrick as drunk as he was… then again, they had had this conversation the first time David was really wasted in front of him, and since then they had definitely done things when one or the other of them (ok, almost always David) was inebriated. But still.

“David,” Patrick said, getting his attention by gently touching his face, turning him to make eye contact. “I want this. I love you. I’m sober enough to choose to give you a blowjob right now.”

After a moment more of hesitation, David nodded sharply, closing his eyes as he felt Patrick move down the mattress.

And it was actually fine that Patrick was still a bit tipsy, because he languished drowsily in David’s crotch after pulling his sleep pants down. He licked a bit around the tip of David’s rapidly hardening cock, dipping his tongue into the slit to taste the saltiness there. Patrick’s hand moved to circle the base of David’s cock, his pale fingers stark against the dark hair and the redness of David’s erection.

“God, David, how are you so perfect?” Patrick asked the air, his nose inhaling the scent of David’s pubic hair, his tongue dipping out to lick at his balls. David felt a little breathy moan escape him, not answering Patrick’s obviously rhetorical question.

Patrick vocalized as he took David into his hand and mouth, fingers gripping the base of David’s cock firmly, using it to stop him from taking him in too deep. He savored the taste of David’s pre-come on his lips, licking it off like it was errant ice cream.

“Ffffffuck,” David let out, stretching the word out across multiple syllables the way his mother did occasionally. Patrick’s mouth was heavenly. Even when his motor skills were a little less adept, his dexterity and reflexes a little slower, the man could worship his cock like no other. Patrick was treating his cock and balls like they were a present to enjoy unwrapping slowly, not to be rushed or harried. He didn’t seem to be in any sort of hurry, which only made David more desperate to come.

Patrick’s hand moved gently up and down, his grip twisting as he stroked, his eyes more glazed over now with desire and drunkenness. He nipped at David’s thigh, his teeth sharp in contrast with the languid, circular motions of his fingers, but then he laved the spot with his tongue and David wriggled under him.

“Should I keep drawing this out, honey? Or do you want to come?” Patrick asked, looking up at his boyfriend with a lazy smile. The little shit knew exactly what he was doing.

“Fuck, Patrick, I want you so much,” he ground out, unable to keep his voice steady against Patrick’s fingers teasing his balls.

“You have me,” Patrick answered, moving his gaze back down David’s body.

His words and movement were so much. His eyes were so loud. David couldn’t take it much longer.

And then Patrick took him into his mouth again, this time a little deeper, humming against his cock as he swallowed, the vibration shocking David into jerking against him. David reached down, grasping for purchase. He needed something, anything to hold onto, and landed one hand on Patrick’s head, scraping his well-manicured nails into Patrick’s scalp. His hair wasn’t really long enough to tug on, so those little scratches would have to do.

“I need,” David started, whimpering as Patrick sucked him further towards his orgasm.

Patrick pulled off, his mouth making a “pop” sound as he removed David’s cock, licking him like a lollipop until he realized David hadn’t continued to say what he needed. “What do you need, baby?” he asked, a few things in mind, but no hurry to try them.

“Fuck, Patrick. I need to come, please. Please let me come,” David begged, his other hand clenching into the mattress, the sheets tangled in his tight fingers.

“I don’t know,” Patrick teased, lolling his head to the side to smile up at David. “I think I want to draw this out a little more,” he suggested, refocusing on his boyfriend’s cock.

David was going nonverbal, groaning and whimpering and making all sorts of needy delightful sounds in response to that. Patrick knew him well enough at this point to know David wanted both. He was ready to come, now, please. But he also fucking loved it when Patrick made him wait.

And with the alcohol still slowing his own brain and body down, Patrick was very into the idea of waiting. But he was also getting kind of sleepy.

He made the decision to take pity on David and help him come sooner rather than later, so he fingered the slit at the head of David’s cock, wetting his finger with the fruits of his labor to be found there. Satisfied with the lubrication it provided, Patrick adjusted his position to better access David’s ass, and this time, when he took David’s cock into his mouth, he slowly but confidently eased his lubed pointer finger into David’s ass.

“Fuck!” David exclaimed, his entire body reorienting towards Patrick’s finger. The pre-come was enough lube to get him in there, but not enough to make things particularly slippery, and it created an almost-painful friction that Patrick knew would give David that little something extra.

He sucked David’s cock more eagerly this time, relenting and allowing himself to drive David towards the depths rather than keeping him in the shallows. He could feel David getting closer, his movements more desperate and frantic, the sounds from his mouth a jumble of desperation and praise. All the while, Patrick’s finger fucked David’s asshole, twisting and moving in and out, his thumb making gently movements around the rim to provide yet another competing sensation.

David was awash in pleasure, tinged with just the slightest bit of pain, and it was exquisite. Patrick wished he could see David’s sphincter clenching around his finger, his cock spurting inside Patrick’s mouth, but instead what he got was the picture-perfect image of David’s face as he came. His eyes rolled back into his head, eyebrows clenched in the most delightful furrow, and his mouth opened up in a silent scream. It was a good one, then. David’s hand moved down from Patrick’s hair to touch his face, feeling the muscles of Patrick’s mouth work him through his orgasm to pull every last drop of come from his cock.

He knew well enough to gentle his movements as David went from pleasurably sensitive to over-stimulated, so Patrick’s tongue cleaned him up with little laps as he eased David’s cock out of his mouth, a little saliva and cum slipping out like drool.

David’s ass was still clenched around his finger, so Patrick offered calming words of love as he gently eased it out, running his finger one last time around the rim and delighting in the shiver David involuntary gave at the touch.

“God, I love you,” David said, his eyes still closed but his fingers wandering their way lovingly across the shoulders of the man who had just made him come _so fucking hard_.

“Love you too,” Patrick said, leaning up to plant a kiss on David’s lips. He had meant it to be just a peck, but David took it further, reveling in the taste of beer and come in Patrick’s mouth. Neither of those were particularly enjoyable tastes on their own, but from Patrick. God, he could pretty much enjoy anything coming from Patrick.

“Mmm,” David verbalized, savoring the post-coital bliss with Patrick, whose weight was balanced on David’s larger frame as he carefully held his right hand away from the sheets. Sometimes they didn’t mind the mess, but tonight they were both tired and Patrick didn’t have the energy to change the sheets.

“I’m gonna wash my hands,” Patrick whispered against David’s lips, offering a final perfunctory kiss before he leveraged himself up off the bed to stumble to the bathroom.

“Come back,” David asked, a little out of it. Patrick chucked from the bathroom as he peed, washed his hands, and came back to bed.

“Your turn,” Patrick announced, still authoritative even in his drunken state. “Up with you,” he beckoned when David furrowed his brow in annoyance. Patrick helped ease him up and then David was on his feet, heading to the bathroom after pulling his pants back up. Patrick took a moment to appreciate the sight, even in the dim lighting.

David peed as well, washed his hands, and came back to bed. He had expected Patrick to be awake and waiting for him, but it seemed that the beer had finally caught up with him again. Maybe they were both the same amount of exhausted now, Patrick from his day of baseball and alcohol and recent…exertions, and David from what had just made his top five best blowjobs ever.

He would happily endure more baseball games and celebratory drunken nights at the Wobbly Elm if this was the kind of thing that resulted. David smiled at the sleeping Patrick, who had finally succumbed with his head perched up on his hand facing the bathroom. He helped Patrick lay down properly and then positioned himself with his front to Patrick’s back. For what Patrick had just given him, David could be the big spoon tonight.


End file.
